Feel, don’t feed, your feelings (Emotional Triggers)

The past few days I have felt sad. As usual, I look for external reasons. What day is it–is it an anniversary of someone’s death? Where’s my focus–have I been thinking about sad things? Do I have PMS? This particular time, I can’t pinpoint a reason.

I don’t like the cold and snow, but doesn’t make me sad. The anniversary of my dad’s death is coming up, but not for a week, and I don’t usually feel melancholy so far in advance. I miss my girl and my best friend, but those feelings don’t usually sideline me. I don’t think I have PMS, since that makes me feel less sad and more as if an evil spirit has taken up residence in my body. It is just a non-specific malaise.

However, since I don’t have a lot of coping skills, sadness (specified or not) leads to seeking comfort in food, which leads to an elevated number on the scale which leads to further sadness and feelings of defeat. It’s a vicious cycle–or circle–I never know which one is correct, though both accurately describe this situation.

Since January, I have intently focused on winning the battle against food. Overcoming my dependence on it. Eating to live instead of living to eat. I say: I’m doing this for health and not to lose weight. And I kind of mean it. But gosh darn it, I wish that number on the scale would go down.

I have read books, listened to TED talks and am currently re-reading and participating in an online Bible study for Lysa TerKeurst’s book Made to Crave. But, the same stupid number shows up on the scale every morning. Some days, it goes down a number or two, but it always goes back. One step forward one step back. One step back one step forward–this monotonous mambo is wearing me out.

I have prayed, given this to God, and laid this issue at the cross, more times than I can count. But in times of sadness, defeat, depression, I will not reach for the phone to call a human friend, I will instead reach for my faithful friend the sandwich. I will take comfort in the sweet goodness of a cookie rather than the reassuring words of my husband. While I try very hard to reach out and encourage others, I find it very difficult to reach outside my comfort zone when cookies are usually so much closer.When I feel empty and defeated, I will make a huge meal instead of calling a friend or going for a walk or praying.

Last week at church, there was a display of the most amazing cakes you have ever seen. I wanted a piece so bad. I started to take a piece, and my husband said, “Don’t do it, baby.” Initially, I was shocked–and a little angry–and turned with my mouth hanging open to see if he had lost his mind. “It will taste good now, but you’ll be mad at yourself.” Darn that man I love. He was right, and I didn’t eat a whole piece. I did, however, have a bite and it was delicious and wonderful and everything I had hoped it would be. AND that one little bite was enough.

I think that’s the hardest part of beating this addiction. The “one is too many; one more isn’t enough” mentality. Unlike cigarettes or alcohol, you can’t just quit food cold turkey. We have to eat. But like other substances, I have used innately harmless sweets in an unhealthy way. I have tried to fill voids that no amount of peanut butter could fill. I have had long conversations with trail mix instead of God or even a friend.

In counseling school, the therapist/professor asked, “What would happen if you let yourself feel the sadness?” I would cry and feel sad, but I’ve been there before, and I know that I would stop crying eventually.

Overcoming emotional eating is a process like anything else. There are ups and downs. Victories and defeats. And right now, I feel pretty defeated. I feel a lot like I might never overcome this. I feel alone and empty, and maybe a cookie would make me feel better in this moment, but that is not true. So today, I’m going to focus on feeling my feelings instead of feeding them.

La la la la la la, it’s a Beautiful World.

Day 9 of the Daniel fast. I’m feeling deeply cleansed–this fast has been the spiritual retreat I’ve always dreamed of taking. Here are a couple things I’ve learned:

1. Caffeine withdrawal is painful. 
2. Food is an idol in my life. 
3. I get really jumpy when I can’t eat–see #2. 
4. I no longer enjoy cooking-although I have made a lot of stuff  I pinned. 
5. Comfortably full is a foreign term.

Today, the caffeine headache and sugar cravings have passed, and the clarity has begun to settle over me. (By the way, I have not lost one pound. Today, I said, “F#$K you, scale; you ain’t bringing me down! You’re registering all the additional knowledge in my brain not fat on my thighs!” But, this fast wasn’t about the scale.) I realized that I have relied on food for far too much. Food was my comfort, relaxation, solitude, love, and so much more.

That’s how I grew up. Sick? Chicken soup. Celebration? Cake. Love? Cookies. My mom communicates in food. Still. But now, when she walks in my house with a fresh-baked plate of cookies, I smile and thank her, then I look right in their little peanut butter faces and say, “You are a cookie; you are not love.” I often say it with my mouth full of cookie, but I’m making progress. At least now I realize the cookie’s not love.

Cookies and love. Really?

When I quit smoking over a year ago, I realized that I had absolutely no coping mechanisms. Stressed? Have a cigarette. Tired? Have a cigarette. Sad? Have 100 cigarettes. There are never enough. There are never enough cookies, never enough cigarettes, never enough coffee to fill that hole inside you.

Today is my brother Chris’ birthday. He would have been 53. He died almost 25 years ago and left a big old gaping hole in my heart. A hole that I have tried to fill with so many of the wrong things. Eventually it healed as much as a human heart can heal, but not through any of my attempts to patch it together with peanut butter cookies for sure.

What I’ve mostly learned through this fast is to feel and be in each moment. To question my motives for eating. To realize that food doesn’t satisfy a deep internal craving, it simply paralyzes it for awhile. I have learned that I do have will power. And I learned–again–that when you step out in faith, God sends in a heavenly support team.

So, I don’t know if I’m gonna lose any weight, and I don’t really care. What I do know is that when you stop dulling your emotions with food or whatever your drug of choice is, the fog lifts and a beautiful world awaits.

Day 9, I gave my food addiction to God, and I’m not taking it back. Can I share something with you guys? My husband surrendered his cigarettes to God on day 1. I’m so proud of him. Would you please pray for him?

NEWSFLASH: I’m not Skinny, Fast, or Crafty

Recently, I’ve gotten to spend time with some of my favorite people that I don’t see regularly. Women who inspire me, teach me, understand me and accept me. Women who are confident, independent, comfortable in their own skin and encouraging of others. Women who are amazing mothers, writers, researchers, advocates, friends and sisters. I love them all and am so grateful for their presence in my life.

A few weeks ago, I read The Prayer of Jabez by Bruce Wilkinson. It was a short, very interesting read that detailed the story of Jabez in Chronicles, his powerful prayer, and how to live a fully blessed life ourselves. So, I started praying the prayer of Jabez every day for myself and my family, for our church and our pastors, and for everyone who asks for prayer.

Right now, I’m gonna pray it for my dog as she is emitting an odor that suggests she may have consumed a cadaver. I sometimes pray for my animals. Some people think that is crazy, and maybe it is. I don’t think God censors the things you can talk about with Him though. “It’s Friday, and I, the Almighty ruler of the universe, am not taking prayer requests for stinky dogs.” When I say that I imagine that God sounds like the Wizard of Oz, you know, behind the curtain before we know that the Wizard’s just the door guy. That’s how the God from my Catholic childhood sounded. And sorry, if you haven’t seen The Wizard of Oz, I just kinda ruined that for you.

Phew. Sorry, imagine that, I strayed off topic.

Refocus. My beautiful friends help me realize that it’s okay to be okay with where you are and who you are. I don’t mean settling for mediocrity, but for instance, I think I’ve mentioned a time or two that I don’t like to run. Yet, in preparing to turn 40, I set a goal to run a race with my family. Chloe loves to run, and Brad runs but doesn’t really love it. In a recent conversation with my pastor’s mom (who is my age; my pastor is 18–kidding), she said that her workout consists of meeting a friend at the gym and casually using the elliptical and talking. “Sometimes we don’t even sweat,” she said. Wow. I don’t like to sweat. I don’t like to run. I will make a sign and cheer for Brad and Chloe and my brother, and I will drink coffee and snuggle with my little kiddos because I like to do that. And I’m good at it. Yes, I’m good at drinking coffee and snuggling. I’m not trying to be a runner anymore.

So, I’m gonna give myself permission to be better at the things I’m good at and to let go of the things (most Pinterest crafts) that I generally suck at. Fortunately, my dear little friend from church is super creative and talented. She makes beautiful crafts, and for a nominal fee, she’ll make something fabulous for me, and I remain free from glue gun burns.

I’m also giving myself permission not to weigh 110 pounds. Ya heard. My friend, Jen, is very thin, has two kids, eats like a 300 pound man, and has an underactive thyroid (yes, I know the difference, and no life is not fair.) She runs too. Not on a regular basis, but like, “Oh, I think I’ll run a half marathon,” every once in a while. And she does. The more I type the less I like her. (Kidding, again. I brought my A-game, Rivera) But, I am not made like that. I like to eat, but my body flaunts my love for food. That is O.K.

Initially praying the prayer, I believed that I was going to be stretched in all sorts of ways: running, crafting, writing, gardening, building, redecorating. But what I found instead is that God narrowed my focus. He gave me more people to talk with, listen to, and learn from. He gave me more people to encourage, pray for, and, gulp, forgive. He reminded me to focus on my gifts not someone else’s.

One more thing. For years, we have prayed for Peyton to grow. He went to high school this year and told me, “Mom, I’m the smallest kid in the school.” That hurt my heart. Over the years, we’ve prayed, bought nutrition shakes, set eating schedules, taken vitamins, and then, as I prayed the prayer for him over and over, God impressed this on my heart: “I made Him exactly how he is supposed to be.” When I shared that with him, I was rewarded with a full mouth dimpled smile, and we changed our prayers–not that he would grow but that he would be comfortable in his skin and that God would accomplish great things through him, exactly the way he is.

Please don’t mistake this is my attempt to start a slacker movement where we all give up trying to better ourselves. I’m just trying to be a better me and encouraging you to be a better you. But I’m not trying to be you. And please don’t try to be me, even though my mad snuggling skills are enviable. Be you. God Bless.

Food Revelations

Last week I read Women Food and God. Have you read? Seriously, it changed my life. I LOVE Geneen Roth as if she were one of my people. After the first few chapters, when I sat down to graze in front of the kids’ snack cupboard as is my habit, I literally stopped and thought, “Wait, am I hungry?” It was revolutionary.

For those of you who are wondering, it’s a lot about Women and Food, but not a lot about God. The God part is more light spirituality and less Bible-based eating plan, but it forced me to sit down and have a long overdue discussion with myself about why and how I eat.

If you ever saw my mom and sister, you’d understand some of my food issues. They are tiny little waifs. So is my daughter. I am not a particularly big person, but they are really, really small. My mom always told me that I was big-boned and didn’t “have the eating habits of a thin person,” and I have always held a pretty distorted image of my 5′ 2″ 125 pound self. Yep, I just said my weight out loud to the whole internet. The absolute true weight I saw on that dang-blasted scale this morning. Have I mentioned how much this book helped me?

So one of my biggest food issues is that when I was growing up, food was my mom’s main expression of love. Whatever was going on, good or bad, could be remedied with food. Sick? Chicken soup. Sad? Cookies. Celebrating? Cake. And since that was pretty much my mom’s only expression of love, when she cooked for you, you ate. And the more you ate, the more you were loved. To this day, her favorite people in life are the people she can control with cookies. I’m kidding. A little.

Additionally, I realized that my happiest memories were wrapped up with food. Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays, milestones celebrated by going out to dinner, goals met and rewarded with food. In many ways, I had grown to equate food with happiness. Unfortunately, in many other ways, I also equated skinniness with happiness. That crazy combination cannot possibly add up to happiness. I mean maybe when I was 20 and had a pretty fast metabolism, but now it is kind of a problem.

So for the past few weeks, I’ve had a lot of conversations with myself about food, why I’m eating, when I’m eating, what I’m eating and so forth. Turns out it’s not particularly healthy to sit on the floor and eat from the snack cupboard at 10:30 p.m. Huh. Also turns out that eating an m&m every time you walk past the m&m jar until it’s empty is not a great habit. Go figure. And one of the most important lessons I learned is that I really didn’t even know how hungry felt anymore.

In all this dialoguing about why I’m really eating and what I really want, I haven’t lost one pound–in case you wondered. But, I’ve been eating much healthier foods and much less and I haven’t really had any junk. While I have a long way to go, I have been able to pinpoint some serious issues I have to come to terms with:

• I am almost 40, not 20, so my 20-year-old weight probably shouldn’t be my goal weight. 
• Being skinny doesn’t necessarily make you happy or signify you’re happy.
• Not being skinny doesn’t necessarily make you unhappy or signify that you’re unhappy.
• I have a bread addiction, similar to my nicotine addiction. I cannot eat just one piece of bread.
• Just like my husband is as hot to me today as he was 20 years ago, he looks at me and sees the girl he fell in love with (who was skinny, btw). He literally judges my weight by the size of my boobs, so you can probably guess when he’s happiest.
• Food is an idol, and when I give it this much power in my life, I am putting it before God; that is unacceptable.
• My mom lives with me. I don’t eat her cookies. She still loves me.

 So, if you have a messed up relationship with food, I highly recommend this book. If not? Well, you are a rare breed of fabulosity, and I admire you greatly.